


I bring my bare back to your villainy

by centerofgravity



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dark Lavellan, F/M, i swear only the first chapter is in present tense, morally questionable inquisitor, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centerofgravity/pseuds/centerofgravity
Summary: Lavellan has never been a kind woman. While persuading her to save the world instead of her own skin, Solas may be convincing himself. Or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> O Fortuna, velut luna
> 
> O Fortune, like the moon

Solas remembers the moment the world turned on a new axis. It was not, as he would tell her later, the moment she first sealed a rift. Not even when she slew the Pride Demon and sealed the Breach, ferociously proficient at using the Anchor mere hours after she was released from chains. He had given little serious thought to her fate beyond that day, he had thought the Anchor would consume her before the sun set. A necessary death in the scheme of his larger plans.

 

It is the next morning, as she approaches him for the first time of her own volition.

 

He sees her, the sun against her back, as she breezes by the tavern, not even lingering to listen to the sweet tune floating through the door. She walks the way she fights- gracefully and with dire purpose. She walks so swiftly, with her head lifted and eyes straight, not sparing him a glance, that he thinks he is wrong-that she is headed to see the herbalist. But she stops on a nail outside the cabin he has taken as his temporary quarters, turning to face him.

 

There is little truly remarkable about her face save her eyes. She is lovely enough, he supposes, for a mortal. But her face is a softened version of what it could have been, _should have been_ in another life, long ago. But her eyes would be worthy of notice in any age-- a vivid, intense green that has no match in the world except the mark that pulses on her left hand. He wonders idly if her eyes have always been that color-- he wants to call it fade green, but framed in her face by a tangle of vallaslin, it feels at home in the mortal world—or if the explosion at the conclave, the breach, the anchor, if they have somehow changed her.

 

“The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.” There is worse that he could do, than to be friends with her.

 

She raises a single snow-white brow and lets loose the words that will change everything. "When did I say I would save them?"


End file.
